


Leaving Home

by SpasticCat



Series: Photophyll [1]
Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: (Photophyll is a universe with series of events/stories I am working on), ?Short Story?, Character Death, Fiction, First published original story, One of many stories based on the Photophyll Universe, Parallel Universes, Sad Ending, Slice of Life, Those who don't know-Parallel Universes are similar but different, second person point of view, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27012310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpasticCat/pseuds/SpasticCat
Summary: Just like everyone in this aged old rock, you want to be something. You want a change, a mark in history. To be remembered and not forgotten dust that was cleaned off years ago and just floats there; waiting for an ear that will never come to listen to it’s stories.Sometimes, you wish that you can be somebody else. Someone who can do so much that history will never forget them. Not some random face in the crowd that never left her home state, not some lady whose family is too poor to pay for college, not some person who works at a daycare, and especially not you. You're just Carla Boxtric: a random face in the crowd, too poor to get to places that she’s never been before, has no degree, and takes care of children all day while the parents are away. You are just you and that’s it. Nothing interesting besides ghost hunting, drawing, and playing games with friends as a hobby. Even then, history wouldn’t find that interesting enough.
Series: Photophyll [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971349





	Leaving Home

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally going to be a fanfiction, but after not working on it for months due to lack of ideas, I decided to make it fully original. I came to the conclusion that the idea and plot I had for this story seems fitting enough to exist in the same universe as another story I am planning out on. Due to this, it would help me more with the world building and potential plot ideas if I had kept this story purely as original and not fanfiction. So I scrapped the idea of it being a fanfiction and proceed to make this the first original work I ever posted in a long time as well as the first work of a series I have been wanting to do in a long time.
> 
> Also there is no major plot in this story besides character death. No villain, no climatic sequence of man vs. god or man vs. man, in a way it is man vs. nature though not for any dramatic reasons. As the tag 'Slice of Life' says, it is literally a time in the life of a character and how they deal with it while on a trip to the mountains to ski.
> 
> I am being blunt about this because I just want to explain for the story you all will read, do not expect a big bad like most stories can portray. Also it is my first published original fiction story and I don't want anyone feel 'let down' on how it may seem anticlimactic. Maybe I am overthinking it and it may have climatic parts in it that others liked that I have or haven't noticed, but I am not sure. It is up for you guys to see if you all like it or not.

Children ran around the room, picking up coloring books, throwing soft foam balls at each other, screaming in joy, and drawing on the white board as the television plays Frozen for the twentieth time of the day. The song of ‘Do You Want To Build A Snowman’ joins with the chaos of younglings that have zero interest in wanting to sit still for merely two seconds just to listen. No singing along in this so-called fantasyland. Instead, it’s just random chaos with some rare days of peace and quiet in this child care facility. And guess who is the only worker dealing with this chaos, that’s right, you, Carla Boxtric.

Albeit, you are not one for complete silence and you love running around as well. Though dealing with about twelve to fourteen young kids around the age two to four day-in and day-out without any help gets old real quick. Don’t you dare start thinking about the constant diaper change, it’s hell. For all you know, these little stinkers might have eaten WAY too much beans and cheese.

Little Timmy just the other day thought that it would somehow be funny to look up your skirt. He had the balls to go, “Your underwear looks weird, can I touch it?” The little kid even  _ tried _ to touch your cooch before you said no, but you stopped him right on time and reported it to his parents asap. If it weren’t a violation of law, you would have bitch slapped him instead of letting his uncaring parents say, “Tim, we’re going to get ice cream,” and bring him out for a treat without a single scold in the world.

This isn’t the first time you dealt with kids and parents like them. There were many others who were the same with attitude and actions, and you are done. Tired of it. But it was either this or daily garbage disposal. Cleaning up people’s trash everyday for hours around the district. Get paid, but not as a well-minimalist of wages because for some reason the local government doesn’t care about personal hygiene and how the garbage men would nearly die of hydration. Instead, he’s like, “Let the men die or quit, someone else will take the job. They will have to deal with the two dollars and thirty cents per hour since the garbage disposal is so simple and easy to deal with without taking any precautions whatsoever.” At least you think that is what the guy really means in his speeches... Hell no.

Even if you yourself neglect your health, you wouldn’t go far as keeping yourself dirty all day. Not unless you got a reason to. Plus, you need to pay rent. Not get kicked out of the house and become homeless.

Anyway, besides internally moaning about the misery of bratty kids and low income, you got a job to do. Play babysitter for eleven kids. Originally it was fifteen, but three of them-who are triplets-got a stomach virus and were sent home immediately. Parents couldn’t stop nagging about how we ‘interrupted’ their honeymoon. You want to flip them off, but doing so will result in searching for another job.. One kid was picked up early by his parents since apparently their schedules were changed for the day. So as said before, there are eleven kids.

Each kid is doing random stuff and causing chaos; you would have stopped them, but your manager thinks that since no one is hurt yet, then just let them be. And so far, not a single kid miraculously hurt nor crying. Only crying that’s here is the screams of laughter.

You… You really want this day to be over with.

Though fortunately for you, it should take ten more minutes until it is time to wrap things up and get the kids lined up for pickup. Thank god, you were just about to have the urge to scream out your frustrations as well.

The clock hanging high in the wall ticks by, minutes after grueling minutes of diaper changes, cleaning, time out corners, snack time, and carrying children when finally, time’s up. The adults are here.

First ones that showed up were Johnny's father, Joanne’s big sister, Mordecai’s mother, Raine’s older brother, Nancy’s adoptive mother, and Harald’s foster parents. The adults didn’t say much when they picked up their children, just gave you a tip and walked away without saying as much as a ‘thank you.’ Though you are mildly fine about it as long as there is a tip, which is technically given to you just then and there. Extra money helps with food and rent after all.

Then thirty minutes later were Linsay’s two parents, Tommy’s grandpa, Adrian’s cousin, and Karen’s uncle. They are a bit of a different story. Linsday’s parents never leave a tip and instead bitches about how smelly this place is before leaving without acknowledging your existence at all. Tommy’s grandpa shouts and gripes about how ‘easy’ his generation was compared to this one. He never stops talking about how easy it was to hook up on girls at clubs. You swear that half of the time it seems that he is trying to hit on you. Nah, he is too old and definitely no where near your type. Not even an inch by a stretch of a trillion light years away. Adrian’s cousin smells like he came from a bar, and he always has bruises on his face as if he has been in a bar fight. You are honestly pretty convinced that you might have seen him on an old episode of some wrestle series. You are not into wrestling anymore, it was just something your hell spawn of a grandmother loves to watch when you were a kid. Last but not least, Karen’s uncle… You wouldn’t be surprised if he is a drug lord. Let’s leave it at that.

Now it is just you and Marlon left in the afterhours.

With just one kid, it is pretty easy to make the finishing touches of the room without having a huge mess. Marlon during these times just watches the clock on the wall, watches the movie, or looks outside the window-just waiting for his dad to come and pick him up. He would sometimes join the ruckus of chaos the kids cause in regular hours, but he is quiet and to himself in the afterhours. You don’t blame him though, you remember how it felt when you were seven and the only person in the room was some older stranger. Back when you had your fair share of being a kid in child care, it was lonely in the afterhours.

Ever since his brother died, things have not been the same when he is here.

Marlon used to only hangout with his twin brother playing with the building blocks and pretend to be Scooby and Shaggy-he would be Scooby and his brother would be Shaggy. You never forgot the kid’s name, it was Louie Hymate. They both would draw on the white board, creating a universe full of child-like adventure. During last Halloween, Marlon dressed up as James from Team Rocket and Louie would dress up as Meowth. Despite this, they still pretend to be Scooby and Shaggy for the entire day while ‘looking’ for wild pokemon in the room. They brought a huge net and whenever they came across one of the other kids, Louie would shout, “Zoinks Scoob! There’s a pokemon, catch it!” It was so funny watching those two chase the kids with a large net all day…

Now, Marlon just occasionally plays with a few kids once in a while. He mainly sticks to himself otherwise: coloring pages, stack blocks, or doodling on the white board by himself. A few times you caught him crying as he watched Scooby Doo on the TV. You stopped playing that show-despite how much you love the grand series. Without his brother, he just seems empty. Like a husk wandering around the room with no purpose.

It sucks. It really does.

But life just does that to you.

No matter how much you want it to happen, there are no happy tales in the real world. Just work and try to survive in a world that does not really care for you and instead prefers the person next to you. And this is how Marlon learns it. It’s cruel, but that is how it is in this ‘fantasy.’ We can’t be what we want, and we can’t have what we want.

Sometimes you wish you could just hug him, but every time you try, he just runs from you. Afraid that you may somehow hurt him even further.

You suspected that his father may have been abusive at first, but when you encountered the man at a grocery store once, he never seems like the type to do that. Of course, you spoke to him-without mentioning what you first thought of him-and apparently Marlon just gets nervous around tall strangers. It didn’t help that after Louie died that people tried to hug Merlon. Resulting him to be even more terrified around adults that he doesn’t know.

The father is at least the most civil man you have seen compared to the other adults that come by the day care center. He won’t mind chatting about somethings, and gives a few good advice about what to do with the issues around town. He is never rude about anything as long as you don’t get on his nerves either.

Though he has been as silent as Marlon after Louie was buried.

He looks as if he hasn’t slept in the past days, and as if he spent those nights crying.

You never knew how the kid died, but from rumors it was a hit and run.

Two hours of absolute silence, the father arrives. Both traffic and work kept him late as usual. Though that didn’t stop Merlon from immediately clinging to his parent’s leg, waiting to leave as soon as possible. The two of you-you and the father-just stare in silence until the father picks up his son and leaves without a word. Footsteps echoing down the hallway as you clench your hands around the door. The wooden surface of the door sketches patterns over your nervous system of each finger and palm. The shaded silhouette of Marlon and his dad shrinking further and further towards the exit and the end of the hall. With the sound of the door opening and closing marks your cue: it’s time to go. Job’s over.

Painting of smiling children along the walls stares at you as you walk towards the room for sign out. Millions of beady eyes follow you in silence with the only sound being your own steps. You're never one for fear of paintings, but something about the silence and the creepy halls of drawings makes you uncomfortable. You know the eyes are not moving, their beady for god’s sake, though your mind just  _ loves _ to play tricks on you.

By the time you arrive at the right office, the grandfather clock halls away chimes out a loud ring. Echoing and echoing back and forth between each and every hall. It is eight o’clock in the afternoon. The sound reverberates through your body, sending chills up your spine. Your nerves jiggle in vibration similar to that of a leg bouncing because the doctor with a rubber hammer wants to test it’s nerve reactions.

Sometimes you like to believe this place is haunted. An excuse to stay longer after closing hours to take out the good ol’ camera and snoop around for a ghost. You never told anyone except for some friends, but you are a firm believer of the afterlife. Every now and then, you and a small group of friends-about two to three or four-would clamp together and head to an abandoned plot of land, may it be a field or building, and search late at night for any sign of the supernatural. There, during those times, you feel like the mystery gang. Except without people in costumes, it’s actual ghosts like the ghost busters or ghost hunters. Finding evidence for if there really was a ghost around.

Too bad your boss has strict rules about closing hours…

Anyway, the entrance to the sign out room is right in front of you. It’s time to close off your shift and leave before the boss gives you a complaint the next day for staying late. So you grab the door knob and push.

Dust emits the atmosphere of the room. Swaying in motionless air waiting to cling onto anything. Waiting to tell stories of how often empty this office is. The only window to the outer world is partially boarded off with planks. Some jackass thought it would be funny to play ‘rock and window’ a few weeks back. Boss is trying to save up for a new window, but god you hate how cold it gets in this room because of the broken window. It doesn’t help that rain water can enter and mildew the walls. Already some mold is forming under the window. Though it never gets windy in here. Mainly because during the weeks, the wind comes from a different direction of the building, not where the window is at. Fortunately…

The paper to check out rests on the only desk that has a container of files of each employee. You take out a pen from inside the desk and write down the time you left. Technically you hadn’t left yet, but after this you will.

You switched the sign from open to closed before you left the building. It’s been half a minute since you signed out of work.

Walking to your rundown car, it was the cheapest to get at a used car sale, you take out your key and insert it to the key slot. Twisting the object, the door opens and you enter.

The smell of rusty metal and old carpet fills the air of the vehicle. The pine tree incense has long since been used and is just hanging as decoration. You put it up on the small mirror two years ago on Christmas, but you never bothered to take it down. It fills in the space of the empty car. The car seat hisses out air as you sit on the plush, the leather patched and covered in various sizes of rip marks. The steering wheel is a bit rusty on use and the pedals are partially troublesome to work. Though you are used to how the ancient hand me down works. The car isn’t automatic either. It is that ancient.

Taking seven tries to start the car, the engine finally turns on and you pull the car out of the parking lot into the street.

It was not really a long drive honestly. You live deep downtown where the neighborhoods are not so clean and not so middle class and instead lower than that. The day care you work at is aimed more towards the middle class with a few exceptions since it is right at the border of both poor and middle districts.

Your home is a rental: a town house with two rooms and a bathroom. Your grandmother takes the master bedroom as your mother slept on the couch, she doesn’t want you to spend most of your life on a couch. Your grandmother, on the other hand, does not want to share a room and your mother prefers that it is best that you have your own space.

The house is not badly out of shape, it looks pretty tight. Only small problems are occasional mice and a leak on the roof. The rest works as normal as a modern day house should be. Well besides the only refrigerator is a minifridge along with an old air conditioner. That’s about it.

Due to you and your mother having jobs, there was enough money stacked over the course of time to modernize most objects of necessity lying around; the car is still working fine, but you both are saving up for the repairs on it currently. Though your grandmother is too old to keep her job since mainly the issue being was that she started to develop severe back problems. No matter how much the doctors suggest for her to take medicine, she refuses to give in due to her pride.

Arriving home, you see your mother through the window cooking dinner. Stirring a pot gently as she looks through her mother’s cookbook. You know she is listening to music as well, she always plays the radio whenever she cooks.

Closing the door to your car, the grass slushes against your shoes as the mud seeps into the fabric. It rained earlier today. Crickets playing their melody in the distance, blending in with the busy highway miles away where cars spend all day chasing each other and honking in the wind. The noon train lets out a loud yawn acres and acres away, ready to head home and rest until its next shift. Every time it passes, you can feel the slight shake of the ground as if you are mere feets before it. But that is just your mind playing tricks with you as the metal on metal in the distance clashes against each other like a war zone. Misty dew air enters your nostrils and you breath in. Nearly causing you to choke from the sudden invasion, but it didn’t.

It’s time to go in.

Unlocking the front door, you allow yourself in. Granny just sits by the TV, watching Saturday night news talking away about politics and protests. You never cared for politics, all it is-is a game of blame and ideas of change that may or may not happen. Most times not much is done. Regardless, people will constantly argue that there needs to be another change or something isn’t done right or finished. Just back and forth all day and every day. Increases taxes, someone complains. Decreases taxes, somebody else complains. Then doing nothing, everybody complains. There is no win in it.

Your grandmother used to tell you about her campaigns for running as mayor and how successful it was until someone beat her to it. She always believed that if she tries hard enough, then she could win. Until reality crashes down on her, she realizes that she has failed and just mopes about it until she becomes grumpy and controlling as the years go by. Leading her to what and who she is today.

Your mother hums away to the tone of the radio as she lets the pot boil. Each rhythm softly blocks out the white noise of news and wraps a blanket around your ears. The smell of gumbo fills your sense of smell like a child anticipated to get their favorite flavored snowball. Gumbo is always your favorite.

Though the dinner is not ready yet as the timer next to the stove reads twenty minutes until it is ready to be served.

You headed upstairs where your bedroom rests. Each step of the wooden platforms lets out a soft croak, too much pressure you think the grand old wood might say. Though it keeps itself attached for you are not past its limits. You're just cracking its aged bones.

Your bedroom is the only room upstairs besides the small closet where bug spray, rat poison, and a bunch of other repellents lie. The hallway is not as long, just about five feet.

Opening the door to the bedroom, the door lets out a ragged croak.

“Quiet!” granny shouts from down stairs, “I’m watchin’ Sal givin’ his speech!”

You let out a huff, she hates the mayor so much, but that didn’t stop her from watching every channel and show that has him in it or talk about him. The current mayor in the town of Treefall Springs is named Sal Dona. So far from what you heard by the residents, he’s a pretty chill guy. Granny on the other hand hates his guts. You think part of it is because of how he did not try as hard to become a politician. He was just some guy that was promoted as mayor. At least that’s how she sees him.

Your room has three small windows, one on each wall except for the back-each with a dull green curtain. Your bed on the back wall has its covers in a pile-you never fix your bed. When you wake up, you leave the blankets as it is until you use it again for the next night. Your dresser partially opens under the window to your left. You still have your picture frames of friends and high school graduation placed on top. Ahead, under the other window, is your desk and a six year old computer with a desk lamp. To your right, under that window, is a bean bag chair surrounded by a few snacks and drawings. It’s your hobby corner whenever you don’t bother playing on the computer.

Though you can’t see it from where you are standing, under your bed is where you keep your secrets from your mom and granny who tries to snoop your room when you are not there. You have various boxes labeled as ‘school stuff’ though in reality, you long since gotten rid of your old uniforms and books-you only kept a single uniform and a  _ few _ books for nostalgic purposes. The rest of the various boxes has your treasures: a set of cameras and devices, your larping costume, monster books, ghost books, cryptid books and facts, and the entire track of Scooby Doo and the Mystery Gang.

Like you said before, only your friends know about your interests in the afterlife. Your mother and granny does not like hearing about monsters-which are just fantasy mind you-and will not get you anything related to it. You have some HPLovecraft books and a collection of Goosebumps movies and novels. Every time granny and mother leave town for a bit or visit someone while you are home, you just run down to the television and slap in the movies. Watching the story unfold even if you already saw it for the thirtieth time. Sometimes you wait until mid night-when everyone is asleep, and pull out your desk lamp and take out a cryptid book and just read for hours on end until you fall asleep.

You plop on your bed, the mattress bounces you on impact, and take out your phone from your pocket.

Your phone’s background is a picture of one of your first ghost hunts with your friends. Although there were no ghosts found, it was a memorable time. Despite looking for ghosts, you all kept getting scared shitless from the echoes of your own footsteps. Even a mouse scuttling across the hall of the abandoned house scared you all. Jackie back then would pull pranks on Donovan and record his reaction each time. She still does it now, but not as frequent on ghost hunts. It was an experience to remember. You were all so scared that by the end of the night, everyone couldn’t sleep and just spent the last remaining hours watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Laughing and lip syncing each and every dialogue. What can you say? The movie was a gem.

Pulling up your discord app, you notice someone pinged you in your friends’ server called Ghost Gang. Totally original and ‘not’ inspired from Scooby Doo’s gang whatsoever.

The message is from Joel: ‘Hey Carla, we’re picking you up at nine tomorrow morning. Better be ready by then.’

Yep, tomorrow’s the big day. You-during your entire life-never left your home state. Of course you went to different towns and cities, but never any place outside of Louisiana. Your family never had any money to travel that far. Even though your birthday has long passed six months ago, your friends are treating you to a late birthday gift of going to Colorado and skiing for the first time on a freakin’ MOUNTAIN. And saying you are excited is an understatement; you are stoked!

You responded with your own message: ‘Thanks for reminding me. I need to set my clock.’

You have your bag packed of course, which is why your room is mostly empty. All of your important stuff-snow gear, dsL, games for the dsL, and some other trinkets and clothings-are in your bag next to your bed. You would have listed that last part out, but once again the bed was blocking your view.

* * *

Joel doesn’t answer back when the clock struck ten.

You’ve eaten your gumbo an hour ago, and you are currently lying in bed. During dinner, your grandmother couldn’t stop nagging at your mother to put more salt in the soup. It didn’t need more salt… Your mother reluctantly followed granny’s orders and started talking about how her day was at her job. She works at Sonic which is a drive thru place and you can only eat outside or in a vehicle. You ate there before, you love their shakes. The place was not that bad, they have a bathroom that you can enter, it was kinda dirty but also mostly clean. You tend to go there more than any other restaurant mainly because with your mother working there, you get a discount.

You told your granny and mother how your job went for the day, and granny just scuffs. She never cared about your job ever since you refused to work as a doctor back in college. It just wasn’t your thing and she doesn’t accept that as an answer. Well sucks to be her. You are your own person damn it, and you will not let her control what you want to do when you are not at home. At least mom supports you somewhat-she didn’t want to get on her mother’s bad side.

Back when you were twelve, mom told you about how she always wanted to be a veterinarian until her mother forced her to take a position in psychology because a veterinarian in Treefall Springs makes less money than a psychologist. Of course, she failed the field and granny still has a grudge about it. With no money to stay in college, she left campus and became a cook for Sonic ever since.

Anyway, you are currently lying in bed and Joel hasn’t answered back. You know he is probably asleep by now due to everyone who's going on the road trip will have to wake up early in the morning. Jackie is offline, Donovan is always on Do Not Disturb so you never know when he is online or not, Michael is idle-probably still playing D&D with his friends late at night, and Tiffany is online but has not answered any of your messages as you waited for Joel to respond.

You stare at your ceiling. A ceiling fan spinning slowly, years old glow-in-the-dark stars covers the rooftop like a constellation of stars spreading out before you, hand drawn clouds spotted at random points and old military toy planes hanging by strings-dotting around the platform.

If it weren’t fake, the stars look wonderful. It’s like gazing into real stars late at night as a child, wondering if there really is someone or something out there beyond this world. What wonders the cosmos has just out of your grasp. You are stuck on a rock while flying on a plane just kisses the border between home and the great beyond. You want to explore what others have never seen nor done before. Stretch your arms out and just fly into the ocean of stars. Through Saturn’s ring, past Jupiter’s many moons, through the meteor belt, over Pluto-too bad it isn’t a planet anymore-and into the wormhole of the galaxy.

Is it too much to ask for being in space?

The answer: yes.

You originally wanted to be an astronaut as an excuse to be one with the stars, but you failed in math and science. The most important subjects of the career. Instead, after the slap of reality hits you, you want to know about the afterlife. You want to know the mystery of the world. Something that has never been proven by fact before. At least there, when you find evidence, you will be part of something greater. Have meaning in your life, a purpose to fulfill. Change history as you know it and conquer the unknown even if it is not all of it.

Just like everyone in this aged old rock, you want to be something. You want a change, a mark in history. To be remembered and not forgotten dust that was cleaned off years ago and just floats there; waiting for an ear that will never come to listen to it’s stories.

Sometimes, you wish that you can be somebody else. Someone who can do so much that history will never forget them. Not some random face in the crowd that never left her home state, not some lady whose family is too poor to pay for college, not some person who works at a daycare, and especially not you. You're just Carla Boxtric: a random face in the crowd, too poor to get to places that she’s never been before, has no degree, and takes care of children all day while the parents are away. You are just you and that’s it. Nothing interesting besides ghost hunting, drawing, and playing games with friends as a hobby. Even then, history wouldn’t find that interesting enough.

The ping of your phone snaps you out of your daze. Lifting the device, the notification in discord blinks on and off like morse code. Telling you that a message must be read as soon as possible. Swiping your phone out of screen lock, you read the message.

Surprisingly, it was from Joel.

‘Don’t be late!’

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot to mention, I like making my own universes that is similar but different. I tend to keep names of countries and states, but most of the time places in those areas will be named differently or be entirely made up. That way it is easier for me to world build more rather than having the tendency on being 'accurate' as possible just because [X] has some land mark. There will be some existing land marks, but rest are either altered or replaced or just never existed.
> 
> Once again, sorry for these overly explanations. I just want to be very clear with this. I know a lot of fiction stories does this similar parallel universe-but made up places or just plain different-style, but I get paranoid for no reasons when it comes to showing this to the public.


End file.
